Fire and Ice
by Wynter Spite
Summary: He was fire and greatness, then ice and logic, and finally space and desolation. But now he knows that he's not alone, he remembers everything, and he'll find his family, because they're all that really matter. A Hobbit/Sherlock/Star Trek crossover. Basically, Khan is Sherlock and Smaug. No slash. Also, Mary is a BAMF.


**I apologize abjectly for all those new chapters that I haven't written yet. It's like my sister's stolen all of my inspiration and put it in a box labeled 'Inspiration, Not For The Inspirationally Impaired. That Means You, Wynter.'**

**As homage to my no doubt outraged readers, I give you this humble story to feast upon in the hopes that you won't kill me and hide my body in the refrigerator, next to the meatloaf and pickles.**

**Also, in this story Pike isn't dead, just, you know, almost. You gotta give me points for that, right? Heh, heh. Heh. Please don't hurt me.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the Hobbit, nor Sherlock or Star Trek. If I did, I would've made a fortune already selling them on the Internet. Except I probably would've kept a few characters to myself, such as Kirk and Spock and Chekov and Sulu and Uhura and Khan and Sherlock and John and Lestrade and Mary and Mycroft and Moriarty ('cause he's insane, but it's a charismatic kind of insane) and Bilbo and Smaug and Thranduil and . . . uh, yeah, you know that might not work out so well after all . . .**

* * *

_Fire, and destruction and gold._

_Do not try to pierce my flesh with blackened arrows, I will not die._

_My treasure that drove a good king mad, my hoard that others would steal. Don't hide from me, peculiar creature, I can smell your fear. Unseen thief, I will find you, what are you? You will not escape me._

_Do not deceive me, do not flatter one who knows what you do. I'll take you apart bit by bit, I will eat you and your false words. Run, run, but I know where you hide. Tell me of my greatness, little hobbit, I won't be taken in. I will burn you up and melt you down . . ._

_. . . why do you stand before me, bravery and defiance in your eyes? I am larger than your life, I am older than the ground beneath your feet. My fury will overcome your insolence, my rage will wash away your petty world. Your courage will not rule me._

_Do not talk down to me, though you look up into my eyes. I am greater than you will ever be, I am more than you can hope to become. I am . . . do not speak to me of being alone, small creature, you cannot comprehend the years I have lived. You dare to defy me, but I know your secret._

_You are as alone as I._

_Little thief, you cannot defeat me. I am bigger, better, do you not see? Here I stand, surrounded by gold and jewels. You are insignificant, but you do not believe that. You are . . . tiny. Don't look at me with sad eyes, do not **pity** me! I am greater, I am . . ._

_. . . I see what you mean. Why do you stay? You nearly ran, but here you are. Little hobbit, are you trying to change me? _

_My gold is cold as it touches my flesh, you will be my treasure instead. _

_Curious creature, you are no longer afraid. I will covet you, hide you away from those who would take your small, brave heart and carelessly rip it apart. Do not smile at me, I am not one who should amuse you. You are so light. You laugh at me, but I suppose I don't mind._

_You tell me of home, but what is that? Explain._

_A place of comfort, of love. Are you home, little hobbit? No matter, I see that I have flustered you. Take me to your home, then, I will not burn it down if it belongs to you._

_Years are passing faster than ever, and I become aware that you are not forever. You are smiling again, do you not know that you are dying? Do not tell me it is natural, I will not accept a ghost in your place. Do not wave away my concerns, do not try to sooth me with "It's what people do."_

_It's not what I do._

_It's life, is it? Life is death? Is the world cruel? I don't understand why you have to go away. Stay with me, be my treasure forever. _

_But then you say that you cannot, and you become what I never wanted._

_Merely a vivid, fleeting dream. My memories of you are beautiful._

_So I mourn, and I blaze brighter and hotter and grander and eventually I will burn out, because I am not great without you._

* * *

_Ice, deduction and isolation._

_I will not be oppressed, I know what you do when you tell me what I am._

_"Sociopath," they say, as if it's something of which to be ashamed. I am not ashamed, and why should I be? It's simply not logical. You blame me because I tell you the truth, it's not my fault you want to keep living in your pretty little lie. You want me to be wrong. I am not, and you throw insults at me as if they should affect me, because now I have torn away the blinders when you don't want to see, and you hate me for it. _

_You can hate me all you like, it won't change the truth. It won't change anything._

_Now I sit here, spilling small details of this little man's life, and he says "Amazing."_

_I am, but no one else ever seemed to know it. This man is weary, yes, and sad, but he needs that which I have and perhaps I need what he gives out as if it means nothing._

_I solve a murder and he murmurs, "Brilliant." He doesn't seem to realize he's saying it aloud. He apologizes, he really shouldn't. He is like the sun, warm and bright and his light, it never goes out._

_Call me psychopath, call me freak, call me monster. He will defend me._

_Then I dream, and I remember fire. I remember everything._

_My treasure, my gold. I covet you still, and should we die together in this life, I will follow you to another._

_Then this man, this man with his black eyes and sick smile and sing-song voice, he tells me, "I will burn the_ heart_ out of you."_

_I feel dark elation, the urge to laugh into his face, because I know I won't be the one burning, and even if I do, it will not be alone. He stands there, daring to threaten my friend, and he thinks he has me. He will never have me. I am not his to take._

_Murderer, liar, psychopath. I will never be yours._

_Now I stand on this ledge, and I will jump because I have failed to burn him through. I have failed to protect my hobbit, my loyal, noble doctor. Wicked deceiver, he bleeds into the ground and I am sorry it was not I who killed him. I once told the manipulating monster that others would die, and he shouted at me "That's what people _DO_!" He hadn't included himself, because he wasn't 'people'. Not any recognizable kind, too twisted and warped to be anything other than dark and hollow._

_I have found those words to be disturbingly true. I am wrath, and all those who made a deal with this demon will feel it as I burn them from the inside out._

_I fall, and all the while I feel the ghost of wings at my back. I cannot risk my friend, he is invaluable. I rage at impossible circumstances, and my doctor's glow is now a whisper. He is the sun, and now I will prey on those who would put out his light._

_I hunt for too long. I claw at the chains holding me down. Foolish assassins, you will regret your insolence._

_My 'brother' knows I am not who I once was. I smile at him. Dark eyes and sharp teeth, the curve of my lips reveals my inhumanity. He watches me warily from then on, watches and waits and never moves to remove me or take away my treasure. I let him continue this charade of brotherhood. We are not friends, but perhaps he is my ally._

_It appears my doctor is not who he once was, either. He would never have grown such a thing had I been there. I had not, and so I will deal with it. He has met someone. She is . . . not quite what she wants us to see. Still, I like her, she is good for my doctor. She's good for me._

_He is wed to her. I know what she is. But I also know who she is, and oh, won't my soldier be furious. I will talk sense into him, we will not be separated by something so petty as this. _

_Problem. Her secrets need to be kept. This man, this treacherous, insidious man, he dares to try and pull us apart. He repulses even me, this vile creature. This situation is tremulous, hopeless, and so I kill him, because there is no other way out._

_A sentimental goodbye, no matter how small it was, and I am away and back in minutes. I was resolved to my fate, thank you very much. Really, you psychopath, aren't you supposed to be dead? You have marvelous timing._

_The years roll on, and eventually, my doctor and his wayward wife, my friend, fade away._

_I do not burn up this time. I slowly ice over, alone again. _

_Not for long._

* * *

_Emptiness, devastation, desolation._

Khan opened his eyes, focusing through the blurriness.

After a moment, his vision cleared, and he could see that he was still in his cell.

He remembered. Only one thing mattered now. If he was here, then his doctor should be with him. Perhaps in one of the torpedoes? It didn't matter, he would find him.

Suddenly, the door opened, and two men stepped inside.

"Khan," the Captain Jim Kirk greeted coolly.

"Captain," Khan returned. He would not call the other man 'Doctor'. John was his only doctor, and these people did not understand.

"Why?" the Captain finally asked. "Why did you do it?"

Khan's eyes flashed at him. "Because they took my family," he said harshly, then subsided. He had memories of other lifetimes now, better lifetimes. "But not all of them," he murmured, to himself. "They didn't take all of them." He looked up at the two men. "I want only my family. I will not bother you again with any kind of vengeance, should I find them. Will you help me?"

"Why should we?" the man known as McCoy muttered.

"You nearly killed someone as close to me as a father," Kirk said slowly.

"I know," Khan said. "And I'm sorry. I was driven by revenge, but I don't need it anymore."

Jim Kirk looked into Khan's eyes. "You won't hurt anyone or try to escape?"

"I will not."

"Then I'll find your family for you."

Khan felt himself smile. "Thank you." He paused. "I know them as John and Mary, but they may not remember. John has short blond hair, as does Mary. They both have blue eyes, and seem a bit small to those who don't know them."

"John?" Kirk asked. "As in John Harrison?"

"Well, yes," Khan admitted. "He is my best friend, you see. He knows me as no one ever has." He looked at McCoy. "As he knows you."

Kirk smiled slightly. "That must be nice."

"He befriended me when no one else would," Khan explained. "When all others thought I was a monster, when I was nothing more than frost and shards of ice frozen together."

Surprise flickered across Kirk's face. "Wow. Dramatic."

"True," Khan agreed. "But also sincere."

"I'll find him," Kirk said.

Khan felt his smile fade into something sad. "Let's hope you do."

* * *

As it turned out, it took Kirk, McCoy and Khan only a few minutes to find them. They woke his doctor before they did Mary.

The first thing John did was squint at Kirk and say, "What the bloody hell?" Then he saw Khan, and pushed himself up to address him. "Sherlock, what the hell is this? And what've you done with your _hair?"_

"Language, John," Khan chided, smiling brightly. "Now you know how I felt when I saw that hideous moustache you loved so much."

"I didn't love it," John grumbled. "And I didn't shave it off for you."

"Of course not."

"I don't shave for bloody Sherlock Holmes."

"Never."

"Would you stop agreeing with me?"

"I thought that was what you wanted," Khan said. "Aren't you always saying that I don't listen to you?"

"You're not listening now. You're playing with me, you bastard," John said accusingly.

"You're delusional, John. I never play with you."

"Not even that time when you decided that it would be fun to put shoeshine in my shampoo?"

Khan chuckled.

John scowled. "It wasn't funny, Sherlock."

"Mary seemed to think it was," he pointed out.

"Mary hasn't been right in the head since she met you."

"She's never been right in the head. I just made it more obvious."

"You're a git, Sherlock," John said without heat. "She'd kill you if she knew you'd said that, and you know it."

"'She' is never going to leave you two alone ever again."

They both turned guiltily to look at Mary, who was standing right behind Khan.

She looked at them sternly. "If I'd known you spent most of your time making fun of me, I'd have moved in with Greg long ago. That way, when they found your bodies, I could plant all kinds of false evidence that Mycroft finally got tired of all your bickering and did away with you both."

Khan looked her in the eye. "We go down, we're not going down alone."

She smirked. "Try it. I dare you."

He turned to John. "Restrain your wife, John. She's out of control."

John swiftly changed the subject. "Where are we, anyway? What happened? I look exactly as I did fifty years ago."

"I should think it would be obvious, John," Khan said condescendingly. "We are in the year 2225."

"Wat?"

"Don't be tedious."

Mary smacked the back of his head. Hard.

Khan didn't even waver. "You're here because we always seem to find each other, no matter the circumstances."

John looked confused. "Sherlock?"

"I think you may remember, if you try," Khan said gently. "Do you recall, John, the fire and your home?"

John seemed uncomprehending.

His voice softened. "You are still my treasure, John. Still the gold that is so much more than the jewels that never warmed me."

"In other words, you're his brother from another mother," Mary said cheerfully.

They stared at her.

"I'm his sister from a different mister," she added. No one said anything. She looked around, as if wondering what that was about. "What?"

Khan cleared his throat and turned back to John. "What she said."

"Okay," he said slowly. "Fire and gold and . . . oh." He looked at Khan with dawning recognition. "Oh."

He smiled widely at John's expression of disbelief. "Precisely."

"No."

"Yes," he sang.

"No way."

"Oh, yes."

"That can't be possible."

"It definitely can."

"You were . . . I was . . ."

"Don't talk so fast, John," Khan said, amused. "You do tend to chatter on and on."

"Shut it," John mumbled. "Bloody dragons . . . you're all the same."

"How so?" Khan enquired.

"Oh, I don't know. You're arrogant, prideful . . ."

"With good reason," Khan smirked.

John rolled his eyes. "Right."

Khan's smile softened. "Shall we go, John, Mary? I am confident that we'll run into Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson somewhere around here."

"Perhaps we'll even find Mycroft," John suggested.

"And Anderson," Mary added.

"I despise you both."

"You know you love us," Mary said happily. She linked her arms with theirs and pulled them along. "Now let's get out of here already."

"You can't just-" Kirk began.

"Nope, nope, nope, sorry." She waved at the Captain and McCoy, making Khan's arm flop up and down. "Gotta go, places to see, people to do."

John choked.

"Just so you know," Khan called, "Admiral Alexander Marcus is a bloody scheming bastard. Also, he is currently planning to take over the world, or something like that."

Then they were gone, leaving Kirk and McCoy staring after them.

They would never meet anyone stranger than those three.

Good riddance.


End file.
